Singing From the Heart
by ecyor0
Summary: While struggling to nail down her performance for the Vale charity concert, Weiss is offered a place to unwind and de-stress by erstwhile rival Flynt Coal.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Weiss held the last note of the song, letting the gentle, sweet melody echo out across the empty concert hall.

"An excellent performance, Miss Schnee."

Her aide's compliments were as expected as they were empty. Oh, they were no doubt sincere, but Weiss knew when she was performing below her best. She'd hoped that it was simply lack of practice, but the closer the concert drew, the more she struggled to sing with anything approaching life. Her chosen song should have been a gentle, uplifting serenade, but instead it sounded saccharine. Her notes were pure, but the inflections were flat. Her volume was nuanced, but her timbre was shallow. She could sing better – she _knew_ she could sing better – but she just couldn't get past this block.

Weiss let out a frustrated sigh. The next act was already moving onto the stage. She wanted to storm out of the concert hall, walk straight to her room in the Schnee mansion and shut herself in for the next two months. Instead, she calmly paced to the exit. Maybe she could find a corner backstage to sit and brood.

"Evenin' Schnee."

Weiss glanced up. A lanky boy in a pinstripe waistcoat was passing her, giving a polite nod of acknowledgement and tilting the brim of his hat with a silver trumpet. She managed a weak smile and an automatic curtsey in response. "Master Coal," she replied, continuing on with only the briefest of pauses. Flynt Coal raised an eyebrow as the heiress disappeared into the eaves. Then, with a shrug, he turned his attention back to the rehearsal.

* * *

"E-excuse me ma'am, but is there anything I can get you?" came a nervous voice.

"Hmm?" Weiss said vaguely, snapping out of her fugue to focus on her aide. She was a newer addition to the mansion's domestic staff, hired after Weiss' departure for Beacon. Interacting purely with her parents and brother hadn't done the woman's confidence any favours it seemed.

"No, that's alright Calico, thank you." Calico dithered for a while, uncertain what to do with herself. Two years ago, Weiss might have brought her to task for lack of professionalism. These days she needed what little informality she could get. "Why don't you go get yourself a drink of something? I'll be fine for a while."

Calico bobbed in acknowledgement. Weiss leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The sound of her aide's footsteps soon faded, lost behind the general murmur of the rehearsal. None of the other performers interacted with Weiss – you could almost see the line they refused to cross. To think she would actually grow to miss the forwardness and casual attitude of her Beacon classmates, where her lineage was little more than a curiosity. Nothing like the deference and formal respect that greeted her in Atlas. Here, the Schnee name cast a long shadow, and no-one was willing to stand in it.

Well, with one notable exception.

"Keepin' busy, I see."

Weiss opened one eye to watch Flynt sit down in a nearby chair, letting his legs take up half the floor. She gave a non-committal shrug.

"Song's coming along... well," he continued, trying a different tack.

"There's no need to be diplomatic," Weiss replied, closing her eye again. "A frank assessment won't bruise my ego."

Flynt deflated. "That obvious I'm keeping the gloves on?" he asked. "Well, if you insist... it _is_ pretty dull."

"Dull my foot, it's practically lifeless." Weiss gave a frustrated sigh and sat up, crossing her arms and legs. "I sound like a pre-teen who's still scared of the audience. It's embarrassing! If Father hadn't-" She bit her tongue. She must have _really_ been out of sorts if she was blurting out private family matters in public like that. "I need some fresh air," she announced suddenly, standing up and reaching for her coat. Leaving a confused Flynt behind, she began throwing the thick fur garment over her shoulders as she quick-marched for the exit.

* * *

Weiss walked briskly down the side street that backed the theatre, hands buried in the pockets of her pea-coat. Puffs of breath trailed in the frigid Atlesian air above her, and the light snowfall muffled the rhythmic clacking of her boots. She didn't have a clear notion of where she was going; more important that she kept walking. She felt like she might start screaming if she stopped.

That was another thing which proved how out-of-sorts she was – the barely repressed emotional outbursts. She'd managed to keep her interactions with Father polite – indeed, for the first few months she couldn't summon the energy to do otherwise – but now it was becoming a daily trial. Even her singing, once her escape, had become another millstone around her neck.

Weiss turned to follow the footpath as it reached an intersection. Light traffic moved along the street, dust engines thrumming. There was a click, a soft buzz, and the streetlamps flickered to life, casting no discernable shadows in the twilight. Weiss slowly veered away from the road, wandering into one of the city parks. Evergreen trees rose from artificial hillocks, shielding a sculpture that couldn't decide if it was abstract art or a children's playground. Weiss walked past it and made for the railing around one of the conifers, leaning her elbows against the metal and heaving a sigh. There was nothing to be done. She couldn't defy Father, not here in Atlas. Petulance would only lead to more trouble later on. She would have to grit her teeth, hold her chin up, and maintain decorum. _The Schnee Family way_ , she thought bitterly to herself.

"Miss Schnee? Miss Schnee!" Calico's panicked voice came from behind. Weiss took a deep breath, arranging her polite servant's smile before turning to face the flustered chaperone.

"Sorry for running off without telling you, I needed some time to think."

"You shouldn't do that!" Calico admonished, panic overriding deference. "Your father would be incredibly displeased if he knew!"

"Well then, I'll make sure I don't mention it to him," Weiss replied, walking past Calico and making her way back to the theatre.

* * *

Next rehearsal, Weiss made a point to seek Flynt out backstage. "Master Coal?" Weiss called as she found his band.

"Y'know, you _can_ just call me Flynt," he said as he turned. "Master Coal makes it sound like I'm about to inherit something."

"I wanted to apologise for leaving without explanation yesterday..."

"Hey, don't worry, you gave plenty explanation. You can't sing worth a damn, your father's making life difficult and it's all become too much to handle."

"Wh- You-" Weiss managed to bristle at Flynt's bluntness. "That's just you speculating. I was having an off day, that's all." Flynt couldn't hide an amused chuckle. Weiss glowered and folded her arms. "Look, I came here to apologise, not to have aspersions cast over my singing ability. I'll be fine."

"'Course you will." Flynt twirled his trumpet around his fingers and brought it to his lips. "But, uh... on the off chance you _are_ off-game, come hit me up, I've got an idea to fix it."

"I'm telling you, I won't be needing it."

"Uh-huh." Flynt gave a sage nod and began to warm up on the trumpet. Weiss gave a 'chuh!' of annoyance and sauntered back to her section of the dressing rooms.

* * *

Weiss marched offstage so quickly she almost collided with the stagehands. The deferential way the throng usually parted was replaced with hurried hops and sidesteps to clear a path in time. She turned off from the main green room – she was in no mood to deal with Calico right now. Instead she made her way into the staff kitchen. Finding it empty, she flung the door closed and began pacing up and down the linoleum, repeatedly clenching her fists.

That performance hadn't been dull, it had been _abysmal_. No emotion, no body, no craft. At one point in the chorus her voice had actually cracked – _cracked!_ She brought her hands up to comb through her hair in frustration. Strands of it came loose from her ponytail, accentuating her frazzled state. It didn't make sense. The more she tried to immerse herself in the music, the more clumsy and amateurish she became.

"I'm guessing you weren't happy with that?"

Weiss froze, looking up at Flynt casually leaning against the door frame. Her mouth hung open as she tried to articulate a retort. Eventually, she clenched her jaw and slammed both fists against the fridge door.

"That was _atrocious!_ It was like I'd never sung a note before in my life!" Weiss went back to her angry pacing, half-forgetting Flynt was there. "I wouldn't present that at a birthday party, let alone a charity concert!"

Flynt shrugged "The MC didn't seem to mind."

"Well that's because the MC-" Weiss bit back a venemous comment.

"...the MC ain't a musician," Flynt said. "And musicians know when they're performing badly, even if the whole audience loves it."

"...Yes," Weiss said, voice softening as she looked at Flynt curiously. Flynt returned the look, considering the diminutive heiress like a puzzle. Coming from most people that expression would have put Weiss on edge, but in Flynt's case she found herself tolerating it. Ever since they'd fought in the Vytal tournament, the two had shared an... odd relationship. Weiss certainly wouldn't have considered it a friendship, but she'd managed to earn the boy's respect and she was surprised to realise that meant something to her.

Flynt suddenly straightened his stance, tapping the side of his nose as if he'd just stumbled across the idea he'd mentioned earlier. "You know what you need? A night on the town. Find a nice joint, get a fancy wine and some cheese or something, kick your heels up, unwind."

"That's not..." Weiss began, prepared to turn down the suggestion on principle. Something made her pause though. In her current state, that actually sounded quite enticing.

"...My aide wouldn't let me wander off alone to a bar," Weiss said, offering up a half-hearted resistance.

"Bring her along then," Flynt replied.

"I take it you have a place in mind?"

Flynt reached into the breast pocket of his waistcoat, curling his wrist and flicking a card across the kitchen. It slid across the countertop, spinning to a halt next to Weiss. She picked it up and read the text.

"Give it a go, it'll help clear your head."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Jemima's Bar & Jazz Lounge?" Calico asked uncertainly, hovering behind Weiss. They were standing across the street from a thin, nondescript building facade, curtained windows hiding a recessed ground floor with a thin, high-railed stairway leading down to the entrance.

"I suppose it's not the type of place that advertises." Weiss glanced at Flynt's card again. As she began to cross the street, she felt Calico hesitate, pulling at Weiss' arm.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea..."

 _I'm not sure agreeing to the concert was a good idea,_ Weiss thought, allowing herself a bit of rebeliousness. She strode purposefully to the entrance, forcing Calico to hurry after. The hinges gave a shuddering squeak as the solid wood of the doorframe swung inwards. A gust of ciy air nipped at Weiss' heels, and she motioned for Calico to hurry inside after her. Once the frigid Atlas weather had been shut out, Weiss began removing her winter wear. Some of the patrons looked at her curiously, some ignored her, and some whispered hurriedly to each other.

"Get me something to drink, would you?" Weiss asked Calico as she handed off her coat and gloves. Leaving her aide to scurry off to the bar counter, Weiss picked out seats, eventually settling on a low glass coffee table surrounded by padded armchairs. The deep tones of the building's woodwork and the muted reds, browns and greens of the upholstery made for a very cosy atmosphere. The soft murmur of conversation was soothing, and the amber lighting was a world away from the stark, cold, antiseptic atmosphere of the Schnee mansion.

Calico came over to Weiss, a tray laden with two coffee cups expertly balanced on her fingertips. Weiss accepted the proffered cup, blowing delicately across the rim.

A shuffling noise from the back of the lounge made Weiss glance up. A group of musicians was making their way from a side staircase to a section of the lounge near the middle of the left wall. A piano and drumkit were nestled between two partitions, creating the impression of a stage.

"Is this what we're here for?" Calico asked.

"Flynt just said 'it'll help you clear your head'. I suppose he could have meant music."

The band finished getting into position. A short, soft round of applause wafted out from the patrons. The band lifted their instruments, and as one they began to play. A gentle rythmn sprung out of nowhere, a sleepy trumpet solo floating on top of the sussurus of brushes on the snare drum. Bass and piano chords filled out the tune, and Weiss found herself sinking into her chair. The music seemed to wrap around her, an invisible blanket of melody.

The clarinet picked up the tune, a sudden clear warble cutting across the backing harmony. Paradoxically, it didn't interfere with Weiss' mood; instead she felt her heart lighten as the woodwind bouyed it up. The trumpet faded into the background, taking over from the piano as it joined the clarient for the duet. The melody became indistinct, lost in musical freeform. Weiss realized that she was smiling, and hid her blush behind another sip of coffee. A quick glance at Calico showed her to be as enraptured as her ward.

The instruments suddenly converged on a final stanza, signalling the end of the song. Weiss put down her coffee to join the rest of the lounge in a round of applause. She'd never listened to Jazz music before; not properly, not in this setting. It was so different to how she sang. Her music was controlled, refined. Every note and inflection was rehearsed; a polished lens for her talent and emotion to focus through. In comparison, this music was positively scruffy – timings and tunes skipped around, almost willfully ignoring formal theory and yet... there was a craft to it, a metric that the music cleaved to. It was like a kite sweeping through the air. Weiss couldn't help but feel herself sweep along with it.

"Well," Weiss remarked to Calico, "Flynt was right – this did help clear my head. Remind me to thank him at the next rehearsal."

"...I don't think you're going to have to wait..."

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" one of the band members announced. "Please welcome: Flynt Coal!"

Weiss almost choked on her coffee.

Bounding up from the back room, Flynt Coal slid into place in front of the band, lifting his hat and giving a grandiose bow as the patrons gave him an enthusiastic round of cheers. He straightened up, twirling his trumpet as he gave the audience a broad smile. A nod of acknowledgement directed at her made Weiss realise that she was staring with her mouth hanging open like a goldfish. She felt a hot rush of blood in her cheeks as she averted her gaze and vainly pretended she hadn't been paying attention. Flynt gave an amused grin and nodded at the band, tapping his foot to mark time.

The next song was a faster number, a tumbling cacophany of energy and bounce. Flynt's fingers danced atop the trumpet, and the other instruments sprinted to keep pace. Weiss was feeling a little out of breath just listening to it. With her consternation mollified, the heiress settled in to enjoy the evening concert.

Outside Jemima's Bar, the blue of the street lights lit up the snow. Faint strains of music escaped the facade, only to be swallowed up by the night.

* * *

"That was very devious of you," Weiss admonished as she walked up to Flynt. The boy gave an apologetic shrug as he leaned on the bar.

"You enjoyed it though, didn't you?"

"That's neither here nor there," Weiss replied, folding her arms. She stood there with her nose upturned for a while. Then, her expression softened and she looked at Flynt again. "But yes, it was a lovely performance."

"Figured you could use a change of pace." Flynt stretched his neck from side to side, looking out over the jazz lounge.

"So... do you perform here regularly?"

"Every Thursday – I play here and another bar across town on Saturdays."

"All that _and_ you're rehearsing for the charity concert?"

"You make it sound like work," the bartender joked from where he stood behind the beer taps.

"Don't tease her, Jasper," Flynt called before turning back to Weiss. "Seriously though, this is how I unwind. I'd be doing more if I could get the gigs – not as much demand since the tournament. Tourism's kinda dried up."

"Meanwhile I can't even handle _one_ performance," Weiss remarked glumly.

Flynt looked at Weiss sympathetically. "Y'know," he said, stroking his chin, "Hows about you try singing a little something extra? Mix things up, stretch those vocal chords. There's some sheet music out the back I could loan ya."

"I don't see how that would help," Weiss said dubiously. "I've never... I mean, Jazz isn't really my forte."

"But it would be something you're doing for yourself, instead of the old man."

Weiss mulled it over. When he phrased it like that... "Oh, why not? It'll be something new. I could use some fresh material."

"Be right back," Flynt said, leaving the bar with a cheerful salute.

Weiss watched him go with a vague smile. Normally this much attention would have been tiresome, but for some reason she didn't mind. Most likely because she knew Flynt wouldn't be interested in her – their families' indirect history saw to that. Relating to someone artist-to-artist was a refreshing change.

Flynt reappeared, a thin stack of sheet music in his hand.

"Thank you, Master Coa- er, Flynt," Weiss said with a curtsey. She looked over the crowded staves, attempting to sight-read the tune. "I don't suppose you have a recording on your scroll?" She joked.

"Well, 'fraid not, but I reckon we've got enough time to go over it on the piano before the late night crowd shows up."

"Late?..." Weiss looked up to find the clock. "Oh _blast!_ It's 10pm! Calico, where are you, we're late!" Calico almost jumped out of the couch where she'd been dozing, scrambling to get her things as Weiss sprinted for the door. Flynt blinked in confusion. Then, with a shrug, he went back to the bar.

"Well how do you like that, not so much as a 'by your leave'." Jasper came over to Flynt and slid a drink in front of him. "So, reckon it did her good?"

"I think so," Flynt replied. "She certainly seemed more relaxed after the performance."

"Have to admit, I still don't get what your play is here."

Flynt shook his head. "No play. She's a musician who's lost her muse, that's all the reason I need."

"If you say so."

* * *

"And what time do you call this?" Jacques Schnee's voice enunciated. Weiss and Calico froze in their tracks, pressed up against the foyer wall like burglars. Weiss looked at her father, her expression guilty. Calico's was closer to abject terror.

"...A little after curfew?" she eventually hazarded. Jacques harrumphed.

"It's nearly eleven. I'm surprised you bothered to come back tonight at all."

"We just... lost track of time," Weiss said limply.

"I've come to expect this level of tardiness from you," he looked at Calico, making her shrink behind Weiss, "but Weiss, I expect better."

"It wasn't Calico's fault," Weiss said hurriedly. "The rehearsals have been stressful. I insisted on going to a cafe for dinner. I should have let you know, I'm sorry."

This white lie seemed to placate her father, for what little it was worth. "I would expect so." He waved a hand at Calico. "You may leave," he said, shooing the relieved chaperone away to the servants' quarters. "Not so fast," Jacques continued, making Weiss freeze halfway to the door.

"...Yes, Father?"

"I can be assured this won't happen again?"

Weiss hesitated, until her father's deepening frown spurred her into action.

"I promise I won't leave you uninformed in future," she stammered. "But... if I could have your permission to visit the cafe once a week after rehearsals? I genuinely believe it was very... therapuetic. I wouldn't want my performance to be lacklustre, not for an event this important." Oh god, had she really just said that? She held her ground, willing herself to not quail under her father's piercing gaze.

"I suppose a little room for leisure isn't an unreasonable request," Jacques said eventually. "Very well – one visit a week, provided your aide is with you at all times."

Weiss bobbed a curtsey. "Thank-you Father. That's very generous of you."

"Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?" Jacques said with a preening smirk. "That will be all."

Weiss curtseyed again to be on the safe side, then left the foyer for the north wing.

She'd surprised herself with that outburst. True, she'd been vaguely considering going back to Jemima's Bar again, but... something had galvanised her into securing the option. An act of petty rebellion?

In any case she had some new songs to experiment with. She brought the sheets up to read as she made her way down the corridor.

" _I'm getting that; swinging feeling as I walk along Main..._ " no, it didn't work. Correcting the slang spelling to proper enunciation... it stripped something out of the music. She cleared her throat and tried again.

" _I'm gettin' that; swingin' feelin' as I walk 'long Main..._ "


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

" _...and the streetlights twinkle in the gloom._ "

Flynt nodded approvingly. "Not half bad. Still got a bit of that Schnee stiffness to shake out, but you know how to do a tune justice."

"I suppose that qualifies as a compliment," Weiss said loftily, failing to hide a smile of amusement. Jemima's Bar was quite empty tonight, so Flynt's band had decided to wrap up early & go socialise with the patrons. Weiss had taken the opportunity to see how her practiced songs sounded with musical accompaniment. Flynt had been happy to oblige.

"Half an hour," Calico called from the coffee table.

"Thank-you Calico," Weiss called back with a wave.

"The old man keeping you on curfew, hmm?" Flynt asked.

"Can't have the next heir to the Schnee Dust Company wandering unchaperoned around the streets of Atlas at night, can we?" Weiss said with a hint of bitterness.

"Y'know, for a guy as controlling as you make him out to be, kindof surprised he let you go to Beacon."

"Oh, don't think he didn't try to dissuade me." Weiss looked away instinctively, trying to obscure the faint scar across her eye. "Anyway, this next song, I was thinking of transposing it to a higher key..."

The two of them played the song – or attempted to. To Weiss' consternation, her form was suddenly slipping. Eventually she gave up mid-stanza and signalled for Flynt to stop playing.

"I don't believe this..." Weiss growled under her breath. Before she could launch into a tirade of dark muttering, Flynt raised a finger.

"D'ya mind if I ask what's eating at you?"

"I don't understand, it was _working,_ " Weiss said, fiddling fretfully with her ponytail. "I was back on form, I got this right last night..."

"What were you thinking about while you were singing?" Flynt asked suddenly. Weiss gave him a puzzled look.

"I... I was thinking about how frustrated I was that I couldn't get the melody right."

"No, before that. Right at the start."

"I was... thinking about when I left to study at Beacon."

Flynt nodded sagely. "What were you feeling? What emotions were tied up in that?"

"...Frustration... anger... uncertainty... a need to prove I made the right choice..."

"And the song you were singing... what kind of song is it?"

Weiss considered the question. "Laid-back, nostalgiac, remembering better times, that sort of thing."

"And that there's the problem." Flynt leaned his back against the piano, bringing his hands up to emphasize his point. "Jazz is about what you put into it. You can be the best musician in the world but unless you put some _soul_ into the song, you won't get it right."

"I know that," Weiss countered. "I do that with all my songs already-"

"And what's in your soul right now?" Flynt pointed a finger at Weiss' heart. "Deep down, what's your soul trying to say? What song is it wanting to sing? Is it a laid-back song about remembering the good times?" Her expression gave Flynt his answer. "That's why you can't sing at your best. Every time you get up on that concert hall stage, your head gets full of your feelings about the old man, but you're trying to sing a safe, crowd-pleasing number. You can't put your soul into a piece if your soul doesn't believe what you're singing."

"But... I _have_ to," Weiss said helplessly. "I can't back out this close to opening night."

"Don't worry, you don't need to back out, you just need to be a bit more... honest in your singing."

"What does that mean?" Weiss asked, hands on hips.

"Look, your father's got you in a funk and you can't get out of it, so... _don't._ If that's what you're feeling then that's what you need to sing. Gotta be true to you before you can be true to the music. C'mon, you must know at least _one_ song that lets you do that."

Weiss mulled over her answer. "...I think I do, yes."

"Great, let's hear it."

"Uh..." she glanced around the bar. "It's a little on the loud side..."

Flynt grinned. "I like it already. Yo, Calico!"

Calico sat up with a start, surprised to be addressed by Flynt directly. "Er... yes?"

"We're heading up to the green room to practice, if you wanna join us."

"Wait, we are?" Weiss asked.

"Well, 'less you've gotta jet for home."

Weiss looked uncertainly at Calico, who gave a reassuring nod.

"We've got time."

"Very well, lead the way Flynt."

* * *

Weiss surprised even herself with the performance she gave. She'd spent so much of the last month keeping her feelings dammed up. Now that she had an outlet, those feelings were crashing out of her, adding an edge of steel to her voice that she hadn't realised she was capable of. Her chest heaved as she inhaled deeply, giving her notes all the strength she could muster. Heedless of whether the walls were soundproof enough to stop the sound carrying, she completed the song, her voice flooding the small green room in a triumphant final note. There was no echo, and yet the sound seemed to linger in everyone's ears. Weiss stood in the middle of the floor with arms wide, breast steadily heaving, the stunned look on her face matched by Flynt and Calico.

"...So, you're definitely singing that at the concert." Flynt eventually said. Weiss was beaming, unable (and unwilling) to control the smile creeping across her face. Her pianist gave a familiar smirk. "This room _is_ soundproof, you don't have to keep up the prim and proper thing here." Weiss dithered for a moment longer, before she dropped all decorum and rushed over to give Calico and Flynt a tight hug. The concert was going to be a trial – nothing could change that – but for the first time she was no longer dreading it

"Thank you so much," she said, beaming up at Flynt. The gangly teen smiled back, and for the first time it wasn't a coy smirk. It was something gentler, more sincere. Weiss looked closer, unconsciously leaning in a fraction to try and figure out what emotion Flynt was showing. It wasn't simple happiness, it was deeper than that... too kind to be triumph...

An awkward cough from Calico alerted Flynt and Weiss to the fact that their faces had drifted towards each other by several inches. Both of them jumped back as if stung, awkwardly adjusting clothes and clearing throats.

"Right, well..." Weiss stammered, taking control of the conversation. "I agree, that's definitely the tune I'll be singing. But we're getting close to final rehearsal so I'm going to need all the free time I can get to practice. I probably won't be able to make it here before the concert, so in case I don't get a chance to see you before curtain call..."

Weiss held out a hand. Flynt accepted it. The handshake was followed by another awkward pause, and then Weiss called for Calico to follow her, leaving the green room more quickly than usual.

"Are you alright?" Weiss' aide asked as they left the jazz lounge. Weiss didn't reply. She was trying to convince herself the awkward moment had been simply that.

* * *

Flynt came down from the green room.

"Flynt! How's it hanging?"

"Not bad, not bad," Flynt replied automatically. Jasper waved him over, shelving a dry glass and picking up a fresh one.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, not tonight."

Jasper paused in his polishing and peered closer. "You okay there, bud?" Flynt shrugged. The bartender put the glass down. "Talk to me."

"Dunno know if there's anything to talk about, if I'm being honest."

"Is it about that Schnee girl?" Another shrug. "Damn, haven't seen you this quiet since you came back from Vale."

"I was thinking about Vale, funnily enough."

The bartender leaned on the counter and waited patiently. Flynt lazily spun the stool around to lean back on the counter and look out at the lounge.

"When I learned I'd be going up against _Weiss Schnee_ of all people, I thought someone was messing with me. I mean here's the family that snuck up on the Atlesian dust market and held a pillow over its face and I get to personally teach the heiress some humility, while an audience _cheers_. Dream come true, right?"

"Not gonna lie, it _was_ pretty entertaining watching you get under her skin."

"Entertaining, sure... but it wasn't satisfying. Not like I thought it would be. See, it's not really something that shows up on the video feeds, but when she was reacting to the trash-talk, she wasn't being petulant. She was being defiant. She was trying to prove me wrong. And then that move with the lava geyser..." Flynt shook his head. "Rookie mistake. I _knew_ she wasn't knocked out, but I turned my back on her to concentrate on her teammate. I thought she was nothing without her fancy letter-opener. I underestimated her, and it cost us the match."

"I mean, it was an impressive move, but I wouldn't read too much into it. It's a lot easier to be self-sacrificing in a tournament, after all."

"Maybe... I'll see you next Thursday, okay?"

"Leaving early?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit tired."

"Alright, take care."

Flynt got up, heading back to the green room to collect his trumpet. He felt a little guilty for not telling Jasper the real reason he'd cut the conversation short. The reason he hadn't been able to agree with his assessment of Weiss. Because the truth was, he knew better. He knew Weiss could be as self-sacrificing in a real fight as the tournament. He'd seen it. He could still see it now, if he closed his eyes. A faunus lying on the courtyard stones, defenseless. An Atlesian Paladin raising its fist to smash her into pulp. A small, shining white figure standing between them, bracing herself to take the full force of the strike. The slight flinch that showed she'd rushed in without a plan, without an assurance she'd succeed, without anything except the fierce desire to protect, no matter the cost.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Flynt saw Weiss at the final dress rehearsal, but didn't get a chance to say hello. Then, straight after the concert, she was whisked away to the VIP auction. Flynt was welcome where there was music to play, but he didn't move in the same social circles as Weiss; nor did he care to. He figured it wasn't possible for interesting things to happen in that kind of party anyway. The morning newspaper proved him wrong.

" _Going, Going, Grimm – Shock as SDC heiress attacks VIP guest at charity auction_." Jasper whistled as he handed the paper back to Flynt. "Hard to believe it's the same girl who came in here to drink coffee and listen to jazz."

Flynt had to agree. The Weiss described in the story - an out-of-control powderkeg suddenly shouting at a crowded auction hall, physically struggling with her father and then siccing a Semblance-summoned Grimm on an innocent bystander – was not the Weiss he knew. The news would be missing crucial details (news always did), but there was no getting around the fact that had General Ironwood not been at the party, Weiss could have been facing murder charges instead of mere social scandal. He couldn't even get her side of the story: he'd never asked for her number and Weiss had never offered. He certainly couldn't see her wandering around in public any time soon. And the possibility that his advice to her might be _responsible_ for the fracas... Flynt shivered.

* * *

A week went by with no word from Weiss. Then a second. Flynt continued to work his gigs, but even the band could feel that he was off form. They must have been concerned – no-one got Neon involved in the gossip circuit on a whim.

"Sooooooo...?" Neon leaned over Flynt to rest her chin on his shoulder, curling her tail up to tickle the back of his neck.

"Don't catch you at Jemima's very often." Flynt commented. "You should come round more, you'd like it."

"Nah, needs more strobelights." There was a pause. "...Really, nothing? Wow, they weren't kidding, you _are_ down in the dumps."

"Dunno if I'd go _that_ far," Flynt said. "Just preoccupied is all."

"No, preoccupied is what you get when you can't decide what you're having for dinner. What _you_ are is obsessed."

"Hey now-"

Neon rolled off Flynt's shoulder and sprawled across the bar, melodramatically holding her hand against her forehead.

" _Nightly I wait, straining to hear her siren call, but alas! My feather-white angel hides her face and I hear her not._ " She arched her back, almost lying on the countertop as she pantomimed a fainting fit. " _Oh! Let me see the oceans of her eyes once more, let me witness her silvery locks curl about her ears!_ "

"Are you done?" Flynt asked.

"Don't interrupt." Neon cleared her throat and resumed her pose. " _Sweet lady, if I have offended thee, tell me truthfully! Rather that I know your rebuke than spend a lifetime in silent ignorance. More than never seeing your arms again, do I yearn to see them folded in contempt across your washboard of a chest-_ "

"Okay, okay, enough." Flynt held his hand up in surrender. "I'll talk." Neon straightened up, hopping onto the stool beside Flynt and sweeping her tail behind her knees.

"Was wondering how long you'd let me keep embarassing myself."

"You, embarrassed? Hah, that'll be the day."

"Seriously though, what's the deal? It's not like you to go all sappy like this. Longest I ever saw you pine after a girl was four hours and two cocktails."

"I really don't feel like that counts," Flynt objected. "Breaking up with a girl is one thing, having your teammate steal her from you halfway through the first date is another."

"Oh come on, I did you a favour. She snores like a chainsaw."

"I'll take your word for it." Flynt's playful smirk faded as his mind went back to the main conversation. "You're right though – it's the not-knowing that's the worst part. Did I give her bad advice? Was this always going to happen no matter what I did? Was it just a freak accident?"

"You're really beating yourself up about this, huh?"

"I thought I was helping her out, y'know? I told you about this, I'm pretty sure."

"Yeah, no, I remember. How she's all snooty and prissy when she's talking to people but when she thinks no-one's watching she goes all timid and tired?"

Flynt nodded. He'd seen enough people having their individuality suffocated by Atlas to recognize the symptoms. "What do you think? Was bringing her here a bad idea?"

Neon rubbed her chin, thinking it over. "Was she happy when she was here?"

"Maybe, I don't..."

Neon narrowed her eyes and briefly held a finger to his lips.

"...Yes, she was happy."

"Then you did the right thing. Whatever happened afterwards, you gave her a place she could be herself. That always counts for something." Neon gave Flynt a reassuring hug. Then, she hopped off the stool and took hold of her tail, gently pulling it out straight as she extended her other arm for balance.

"You're pretty stiff tonight."

"Went out to DJ a rave in Mantle. The party was great but the bus they stuck us on had _no_ leg room." A few experimental hops, and Neon skipped across the jazz lounge, leaving Flynt to his brooding.

"...I wouldn't call it a _washboard,_ " he eventually retorted to the empty bar stool.

* * *

Weiss paused under the eaves of a storefront and set down her luggage. She rubbed her hands together vigorously, coaxing some life back into them. She hadn't stopped walking until the Schnee manor was completely out of sight – plenty of time for the hungry night air to bite into her thin fingers. Why, oh _why_ hadn't she worn gloves? Satisfied that her hands weren't going to fall off, she picked up her things and continued at a brisk pace. The cliff docks were only a few miles away, and the last shipment of the night wasn't due to leave for another four hours at least. All the same, Weiss could feel the time ticking down until her father realised what had happened. Maybe he wouldn't know until the morning. Maybe he already knew. The uncertainty was _intolerable._ She'd never realized it was possible to feel liberated and cornered at the same time, yet here she was.

 _I hope Calico doesn't get in trouble for this,_ she thought to herself. She'd briefly considered warning her chaperone so she could arrange to be off duty at the time, but in the end she had kept Klein as her only conspirator – Calico was too scared of her father to be trustworthy.

Down the next right. Second left. Straight on for two blocks. The next intersection would take her into the shipping district and then it was maybe an hour's walk...

Weiss' foot hesitated. She swayed slightly, looking down the alley to her left. From here she could just make out the warm yellow glow of the streetlights illuminating a distinctive red brick office block. She couldn't read the sign over the door from here, but she knew what it said all the same. She'd seen it every week on her way to Jemima's Bar, half a block further down the street.

She gritted her teeth. No, she had to get to the docks. The fewer people who knew she was leaving the better. If they could place her at the jazz lounge, they could guess where she'd gone to smuggle herself out of Atlas. Besides, Jemima's might not even be open this late. She took another step down the street. The second step wavered. The third never came. She clenched her fist tightly around Myrtenaster's hilt. No, it was silly. It was _demented_. Flynt didn't need to know she was leaving. She didn't owe him a goodbye.

She didn't owe him a goodbye.

She didn't.

* * *

Flynt finished wiping down the countertop and lobbed the towel at Jasper. The bartender caught it one-handed and added it to the small laundry basket next to the cleaning cupboard.

"Ta," he called. "I'll fix you a drink once I'm done counting the receipts."

"Top shelf?"

"Not unless you're paying."

"How about I sing for it?"

"I pay you for the ensemble, not the solo." There was no response to Jasper's quip. "Flynt?" He looked around. Flynt wasn't paying attention to him anymore. He was staring in shock at the entrance. Jasper followed his gaze. There, quietly slipping in the door, was a small, white-haired girl with a rapier and a suitcase.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Weiss dithered when she saw Jasper, half turning to leave.

"I'll ah... I'll give you two some privacy, shall I?" Jasper announced, disappearing into the kitchen with a final puzzled look at his late-night customer.

"E-evening," Flynt said, missing his usual suavity.

"Hello Flynt," Weiss replied, her decorum likewise absent. She crossed the empty expanse of the lounge, the normally bright warm lighting dimmed down to a faint candle-like glimmer.

"...You look like you're going somewhere," Flynt said as Weiss put her luggage on the counter. Weiss nodded.

"I'm leaving Atlas." A leaden silence followed as she tried to think what to say.

"Is it... about what happened after the concert?" Flynt asked. Weiss averted her eyes.

"You heard about that then? Yes, of course you would have, it probably ended up in the news."

Another silence. Neither person was willing to advance the conversation, inevitable as it was.

"I can't stay long" Weiss continued. "I just... I wanted to let you know."

"Weiss..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm... I'm sorry."

Weiss looked at him in confusion. "Sorry? For what?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Flynt said, beginning to speed up as his nerves failed him. "I figured coming out somewhere to relax would get you in the groove. I didn't think... if I'd known it would come to this I-"

Weiss waved him into silence. "What? No, Flynt, this... this isn't your fault. Please believe me."

"But, the song-"

" _I_ chose the song. And even knowing what happened, I'd choose it again." Weiss turned and gestured to the empty jazz lounge. "This... this was _wonderful_. I felt like I could be myself for the first time since I left Vale. I don't regret that. Don't you regret it either." She turned back to Flynt and took hold of his hands. "This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault." She gripped his hands tightly to emphasize the point. "You _helped_ me. You reminded me why I went to Beacon in the first place. That's why I came here. I just... I need you to know I don't blame you. I need..." She trailed off, unsure what else to say. Perhaps there was nothing else _to_ say.

Perhaps it needed to be said without words.

Weiss found her face drifting towards Flynt's. She stopped herself, and Flynt instinctively drew back in response. Weiss slid her hands up onto Flynt's shoulders, the butterflies in her stomach suddenly taking over.

"May I?..." she asked uncertainly, betraying more vulnerability than she meant to. Flynt hesitated a moment longer. Then, a smile returning to his face, he nodded. Weiss slid her hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, linking her fingers together as she stood on tiptoe. Flynt bent his head down in response to the gentle pressure, and Weiss slipped her arms down to support herself on his shoulderblades as she pulled up to meet him. Flynt stooped slightly as her weight caught him off guard, and Weiss locked lips in a deep, sudden, passionate kiss.

She briefly lost track of where she was, so that when she finally broke the kiss she wasn't sure how she'd ended up sitting on the edge of the bar. It certainly made things more comfortable, so she wasn't going to complain. She held Flynt's face in her hands and went in again. The third time, her self-control reasserted itself.

"I... I need to go," she said breathlessly, even as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close. Flynt returned the embrace, effortlessly lifting her back onto her feet. He held her head gently in one hand, stroking her hair as she began to cry silently.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered, closing her eyes and resting her head against his neck. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Gonna miss you too, Weiss."

Hearing him say her name sent a thrill of fresh emotion through her, and Weiss was briefly seized by a mad desire to stay here, with Flynt, where she could be safe and wanted and valued and... the moment passed. She knew it was impossible. There wasn't anywhere in Atlas she could safely hide from her father. And in any case, she was done sitting helplessly in her room while others decided her destiny in her place. She _had_ to leave. She _had_ to let Flynt go.

"You're crying," Flynt said in concern, finally noticing Weiss' tears.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." she drew in a deep, shuddering sigh. "...I've had to abandon friends already. And now I'm abandoning another one."

"You ain't abandoning no-one," Flynt replied firmly, gently lifting Weiss' chin to make eye contact. "You've gotta do what's best for you. You're better off free and far away than caged here."

Weiss gripped Flynt's shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut. _Damn_ her father for taking away yet another source of happiness. She felt her face burning hot as her heart violently rebelled against what it knew had to happen. She looked back up at him, stoop on tiptoe and gave him a final, soft, lingering kiss.

"Goodbye," she said quietly.

"Until we meet again," Flynt replied.

"I don't know when that will be..."

"Don't matter when. Only matters that it happens one day."

"It's a promise, then."

Weiss reluctantly broke away from Flynt, picking up her suitcase. She made her way back to the door, the empty bar swallowing the sound of her footsteps. She stopped to look back as she turned the handle. Flynt waved goodbye, giving her a reassuring smile. She smiled back. Then, with a creak of worn hinges, she slipped through the door and disappeared into the night.


End file.
